Here I am, stuck in an elevator with you
by cheesycheese
Summary: Hey, hey guise. Do you see that genius little title I came up with? Do you? Yeah that's really what the story is about. John and Paul stuck in an elevator. Pre-slash.


**Lol guys here's my pathetic little attempt at something a little different from what I normally write. I was going for a sweet little oneshot, but...yeah. I like the ending, so just read and review, even if you hate it :D**

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><p>"Hurry up Paul!"<p>

"'m Comiinggg!" Paul whined, trying to walk and struggle into his jacket at the same time. John clicked his tongue irritatibly, still holding the elevator door open for his sleepy, and as a result, incredibly slow friend. Paul glared at him as he stepped in, finally getting his jacket on right and now fumbling with the buttons. John gave him a once over.

"Where's your tie?" He snapped, and Paul blinked and looked down at his bare shirt. Brian would have a fit if he was the only one without one.

"Shit." He muttered, and jogged out towards their room again "Just hold it, I'll be right back!"

John swore under his breath. They were already late for the press conference being held downstairs. Everybody had been ready so John had been given the glorious task of dragging Paul out of bed and making sure he got ready in time. Not really the easiest task, which is why everybody usually dumped it on him. Paul would whine and complain and swear until you literally dragged him out of bed. Then he'd swear and whine some more and go get ready. In other words, Paul McCartney wasn't much of a morning person.

John was tapping his foot impatiently while he held the door open when Paul came running back, tie in his hand. He thrust it into Johns hand and started taking off his jacket. John rolled his eyes and pressed the button for the lobby.

"This is why we don't stay up shagging all night."

Paul snorted. "You're one to talk."

"Well I don't become sloppy when I don't get enough sleep, do I?"

"I'm not sloppy!" Paul said indignantly, snatching the tie from John and looking as if John had just insulted his mother. "_Youwere the one nagging me the whole time, no wonder I forgot my bloody tie!"_

"You're doing it wrong!" John pointed out, and indeed he was right. Paul had somehow tied a double knot around his neck. He huffed, but before he could straighten it out, everything went dark. The elevator jerked to a stop with a strange whirring sound and John had to grab the wall to steady himself

"What the hell?"

"Oh come on!"

John took his lighter out of his pocket and lit it up. It was only a faint source of light but he could see Paul looking around with wide eyes, the tie still knotted up around his neck. He smirked.

"Think we should call for help?" Paul asked, nodding towards the elevator phone. John blinked and looked away before Paul caught him staring.

"Might as well. They need to know we're in here so they can get us out, eh?"

Paul looked a little wary of the idea of being stuck in a dark elevator. "Maybe the power'll be back in a few minutes?"

"You never know." John said, picking up the phone, "Besides, we can tell em to tell Brian in any case. We're already late."

"He's going to kill us." Paul groaned, struggling to untie his tie.

"Kill _you, you mean..yes, we're stuck in the elevator. Is the power comin back on soon?' John said as somebody on the other end picked up, so bloke with a deep voice. Paul finally got his tie undone and tossed it carelessly on the floor, watching Johns expression change into one of annoyance and disbelief._

"Can you get us out before tha'?" He asked incredulously, handing Paul the lighter. Paul clicked his tongue in annoyance. This was just great, he thought bitterly as he sat the lighter down on the far end of the surprisingly spacious elevator.

"Look, we're already late for our press conference, there must be _something you can do!" John snapped angrily, and Paul hoped for the other guys sake that they did something before John lost his temper and found some way to trash an elevator. Knowing John, he probably would._

"Yes this is Mr. Lennon. And Mr. Lennon would like you and your staff to get your shit together and get him and Mr. McCartney out of this bloody elevator!' John snapped in his trademark biting tone.

Paul smirked, but gestured for John to cool it before he said something out of line. John gave him that look which Paul had come to interpret as 'Shut it before I knee you in the balls'. He winced. Well, this was going to get messy.

"No repairmans eh? What would you 'ave done if one of us was injured or such? Sitten there and wanked..Hey!" John growled as Paul tried snatching the phone away, keeping a death grip on it. "Leggo of it macca!"

"Are you insane?" Paul hissed, still trying to snatch it away.

"I'm not the one incapable of doing my job, am I?" He said loudly so the guy on the line would hear. "Let go, I wasn't done talking!"

"Just lemme talk..ow!" Paul jerked away when John kicked him in the shin and quickly snatched the phone away. Paul gritted his teeth as he rubbed his now throbbing knee, glaring at Johns back

"Right, now as I was saying..argh!" Paul had now officially lost his temper and jumped on Johns back, trying to reach for the phone. He took John by surprise and both of them fell on the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"GIVE ME THE PHONE LENNON!" Paul yelled, clawing at Johns arms, trying to reach the phone. John tried jerking around to throw Paul off, but was very limited by the small telephone cord. Paul hung on like some fucking chubby monkey, his weight making it hard for John to breathe.

"GEROFF ME YOU CRAZY CUNT!" John yelled angrily, biting at his hands but missing. Paul retaliated by yanking a piece of Johns hair as hard as he could with his teeth, actually jerking his head back.

"OW!"

"JUST GIVE ME THE GODDAMN PHONE, YOU WANKER!"

"I WASN'T DONE TELLING THIS WANKER.." John jerked the phone back towards himself, but apparently pulled too hard, because the cord snapped off. Both of their eyes widened and Paul angrily hit John upside the head. John half turned around and smacked him back.

"Dammit John! You didn't even tell him to tell Brian!" Paul aimed more slaps at John, who slapped back.

"Maybe of you weren't hanging onto me like some great ape I would have!" John shouted back, pushing Paul off of him.

"Don't you mean _maybe if you hadn't been a little too busy making a total ass of yourself _you would have?" Paul growled, standing up. John shot up too, throwing the now useless phone aside.

"Oh shut it, you! They don't have a fucking way to get us out of this goddamned contraption! What else was I supposed to do?"

"OTHER THAN CUSSING OUT THE GUY WHO COULD HELP US AND THEN DESTROYING THE PHONE? I DON'T KNOW JOHN, NOTHING REALLY COMES TO MIND!" John faltered, and Paul smirked. It didn't take long for John to bounce back though.

"Nothing comes to mind.." John mocked, flailing his hands around. Paul raised a brow at him. Really, though?

"You really got me with that one" Paul retorted sarcastically.

"You look like a bird."

"Really? Thats the best..?"

"Your name should be Pauline."

"Oh wow." Paul deadpanned. This was just getting ridiculous.

"You smell like a wet dog."

"Fuck you." Paul sighed, plopping down on the floor against the wall. John was just so stubborn at times, he would say the stupidest shit just so he wouldn't have to admit he was wrong.

"You look like a bird and all Paulie, but I'm more of a 'tits in my face' kinda guy." John explained mock sadly. Paul rolled his eyes.

"Just shut up John."

"You shut up." John shot back lamely, plopping down next to Paul, determined to stay angry at him. He hated it when he was wrong. Stupid smug Paul.

They didn't talk for a while, just sat there in silence. Paul felt his eyes drooping shut, but he tried to resist the urge, knowing John would probably jerk him awake by yelling at him or jumping on him and what not. Then he'd feel like shit when he was awake and lose his temper again.

Paul wasn't someone who stayed angry too long. Especially at John. Because he knew John did care, in that strange fucked up way of his, but it was the temper that ruined it all. But even with that, he knew if John tried talking to him now, he'd probably forget everything that'd happened and talk normally. That was just the way it worked with them.

John was playing around with his hat when he heard paul snore lightly. He rolled his eyes, wondering if he should wake him up. All sorts of devious plans came to mind, but looking at Paul, he really didn't have the heart to.

Even when Paul slid sideways onto his shoulder John didn't say or do anything. He just couldn't. How could you stay angry at someone with that face? He'd come and make that stupid kicked puppy face of his and suddenly he wouldn't remember why he was angry anymore. And now, when he was sleeping, the buggers face looked even more angelic than it did when he was awake. John sighed, careful not to move too much, wondering when on earth he'd gotten so soft.

John picked on his nails for a while, humming under his breath and desperately wishing he had a pen or paper or SOMETHING to pass the time. He wasn't really tired, but maybe he would take a kip too.

But what John hadn't been expecting was for Paul to slide down into his lap. He wasn't even sure how Paul had done it so gracefully in his sleep, but one minute he'd been lightly snoring on his shoulder and the next he was lying in his lap, turned onto his back. His mouth was parted open slightly and his hair fell into his eyes. Before John even had time to register what he was doing, his hand had moved and was sweeping Paul's hair off of his face.

Paul moved his head further into Johns touch, and the latter noticed the light frown on his mates face. John sighed fondly, knowing Paul was prone to headaches when he didn't get enough sleep.

'You fragile little..' John muttered under his breath, not being able to stop the goofy little smile stretching across his face. Only with Paul though, could John fight with and end up with him sleeping in his lap. His hand was still resting on Pauls forehead so he gently raked it through Pauls hair. Feeling pleased with himself when Pauls face relaxed slightly, he did it again, and again. The fourth time, Paul gave a happy contented little sigh, turned and buried his face into Johns stomach.

Johns heart immediately gave a happy little flutter, though he tried to ignore it. God, this was so queer. Here was his best mate, lying in his lap like some bird while he magically soothed his headache away. He could feel his warm breath on his stomach for christ's sake.

But for some odd reason, running his hand through Pauls thick hair while he slept with that little smile on his face, John really couldn't bring himself to care.


End file.
